I gasped. “Is he dead?”

  “Very.” Dylan had his phone out and was making a call.

  I stared at the large hole in the lawn and the shovel a few feet from the body. What was this all about?

  “Hi, John—it’s Dylan. Carrie and I just came upon a corpse on Victor Zalinka’s lawn.” Dylan listened a minute, then snapped a photo of the body. “I’m sending it to you now.”

  Chapter Three

  While Dylan and I waited for Lieutenant John Mathers outside the front entrance of the house, Dylan called Victor to tell him what we’d discovered.

  “Oh my God! Dead?” I heard Victor exclaim from across the Atlantic. “What was he digging up on my property?”

  They spoke a few minutes more. Finally, Dylan promised to keep Victor updated and ended the call. He turned to me. “Victor said that unless his presence is demanded here, he’ll be flying home Tuesday, as planned.”

  “I can’t see why John would insist that Victor cut short his business trip,” I said. “That poor man was probably murdered in the past day or two, when Victor wasn’t even in the country.”

  “After touching his cheek, I’d say it happened no earlier than last night,” Dylan said.

  I shuddered. “How was he murdered?”

  “I didn’t see any bullet wounds or wounds of any kind, so whatever the weapon was, the damage must have been to the back of his head or lower body.”

  I nodded. “Meaning the killer snuck up on him.”

  “While he was digging.”

  We paused to consider all this. Who was the victim? Who was the murderer? And what were they after?

  I let out a scream. Dylan drew me close. “What is it, Carrie?”

  “Our wedding! How can we go ahead with our plans to get married here where a murder just took place?”

  Before Dylan could answer, a police car drew up, its colorful lights spinning. Lieutenant John Mathers and Officer Danny Brower stepped out and walked toward us.

  “So, Carrie, looks like you’ve found us another homicide victim, and this time you brought Dylan along,” John said in greeting.

  “We both noticed the body,” I corrected him. “Believe me, this is very distressing.”

  “I know it is,” John said, his tone considerably softer. John and his wife were good friends of ours, and he knew I must be freaking out—coming upon a corpse on the property where Dylan and I were getting married in two weeks’ time. “Shall we?”

  Dylan led the way around the house and across the lawn to where the body was lying.

  “The technicians and the ME are on their way,” John said as we walked.

  The four of us stood around the corpse. I watched John survey the scene. He took in the gazebo; the freshly dug hole about two feet deep and three feet wide, and the shovel beside it.

  “Looks like he was digging for something,” Danny said.

  “There’s no way of telling if he found what he was looking for or if the killer took off with it,” John said. He glanced at Dylan and me. “And the two of you happened to be here because …?”

  “We came to decide on the best way to arrange the seating for the wedding ceremony. Victor’s abroad until Tuesday, but he gave us the key,” Dylan explained.

  “Did anything seem amiss in the house?” John asked.

  “Nothing,” Dylan answered. “Of course we were only downstairs, but Victor has a top-of-the-line security system because of his art collection. We would have noticed if there had been a break-in.”

  John thought a minute. “At this point I’ve no reason to extend our investigation to include Zalinka’s house. I’m aware of his valuable art collection, and I don’t want to bring officers into the home unless it becomes necessary. You say he’s expected home on Tuesday?”

  “Yes,” I said. “He flew to Europe last Wednesday.”

  “I’ll speak to him when he’s back home,” John said. “I’m no pathologist, but I’d say this poor soul was murdered in the past six to twenty-four hours.”

  I gasped. If we’d come that morning, we might have witnessed the cold-blooded killing.

  “In that case, I’ll set the alarm in the house, and we’ll be off,” Dylan said.

  “Talk to you soon,” John said, looking grim.

  I started to shake as soon as I slid into the car. Dylan wrapped his arms around me. “Delayed reaction,” he murmured.

  I held him close. “How can this be happening?” I burst into tears. “Why can’t we plan our wedding without someone getting murdered? And poor Victor. He was a suspect in another murder case. John has to see that he has nothing to do with this one.”

  “Of course John doesn’t like Victor for this homicide. You heard him say the murder was recent. Victor’s been gone for days. As for our wedding, it’s two weeks from now. Plenty of time to find out why the victim was digging in Victor’s backyard and who murdered him.”

  I sniffed. “And what if it doesn’t play out that way?”

  Dylan shrugged. “We’ll get permission to hold the wedding on the Green and have the reception in the library.”

  I smiled. A farfetched idea, but my dearly beloved was just resourceful enough to pull it off.

  Dylan pulled a tissue from the box he kept in the back seat and handed it to me. “Cheer up and dry your eyes. I promise we’re getting married, regardless of that poor fellow we discovered today.”

  * * *

  When we got home, Dylan made tea. We sat at the kitchen table, sipping it and saying very little. I was glad we hadn’t made plans for the evening.

  “Feeling better?” Dylan asked as he put our empty mugs in the sink.

  I nodded.

  He went into the spare bedroom to do some paperwork. I stretched out on the living room sofa with a mystery novel, but found I kept on reading the same paragraph over and over again. The phone calls began minutes later. The first was from Babette Fisher. Babette taught art at the local high school and served on the town council with me. For the past six months, she and Victor had been in an intense relationship.

  “I just spoke to Victor. He said you and Dylan discovered a dead body on his back lawn. Another homicide, Carrie?” Babette sounded both apprehensive and excited, the blend I’d become all too familiar with when people got news that someone had been murdered.

  “Yes, unfortunately. He hasn’t been identified yet. We waited until John arrived and left before the CSI techies came on the scene.”

  “Please let me know when you hear anything. Victor asked me to keep him informed.” She paused. “Does Lieutenant Mathers imagine Victor had anything to do with this?”

  “I don’t think so. I’ll call if I learn anything.”

  “Thanks, Carrie.”

  I turned on the TV and caught the tail end of John being interviewed by a reporter. This time my cell phone played its jingle. Angela.

  “I can’t believe someone was murdered on Victor’s back lawn, of all places!”

  “I know.”

  “You don’t sound surprised. Don’t tell me—”

  “Yes, Dylan and I were at the house when we noticed the body and called John.”

  “Oh no! You and Dylan discovered it!”

  I was grateful that Angela didn’t berate me for not telling her about the corpse, though I knew she wanted to.

  “I’m worried, Angela. What was some strange guy doing, digging up Victor’s lawn? What if the killer didn’t find what he was after and decides to break into the house? How can we get married there if a killer’s roaming free?”

  “I’m sure John will give this case his full attention. And if you join the investigation, you’ll speed things up and catch the killer before your big day.”

  “Really? Investigate when I still have lots of wedding stuff to deal with? Besides, I saw the victim, and I have no idea who he is. I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

  “You’ll find a way. You always do.”

  Julia called, then I heard from Sally. And from Marion, the children’s librarian. An hour later my father called, very concerned about my emotional state. I was touched but at the same time amused. Jim Singleton had not been around for most of my growing-up years. And now that I was thirty-one, I found myself dealing with a helicopter dad.

  After our eventful day, Dylan and I decided to eat out, after all. We hopped in his car and went to the next town for pizza and Cokes. John called us on Dylan’s phone as we were driving home. Dylan put the call on speaker.

  “The victim’s name is Billy Carpenter. Turns out, his aunt and uncle owned the house for more than thirty years before they sold it to Victor Zalinka three years ago.”

  “Oh,” I said, relieved that this couldn’t possibly have anything to do with Victor.

  “He served four years of a six-year prison sentence for a bank robbery. Never gave up his accomplices, and the cash was never recovered. But he behaved himself and got off early. He was released earlier this week.”

  “So he must have buried the money on the lawn. Someone followed him, killed him, and took off with the dough,” Dylan said.

  “Sure looks that way,” John agreed.

  “How was he murdered?” I asked.

  “Shot twice—in the head and the neck—with a small-caliber weapon. We spoke to the neighbors on the block, but so far only one person heard what sounded like shots around four in the morning.”

  “Do you have any leads?” Dylan asked.

  “Carpenter had two close pals who we think were in on the robbery, though he never gave them up. Also, Carpenter’s cellmate got released a few days after he did. There’s a good chance Carpenter told him about the money, and the guy stalked him. Or his pals did.”

  “Does this mean you’ll probably be arresting someone soon?” I asked.

  “I sure hope so, Carrie. I know how upsetting this must be for both of you. Believe me, I’ll do my best to arrest the bad guy—or guys—but everything has to be done by the book or the case gets thrown out before it goes to court.”

  “I know,” I said.

  I must have sounded as down as I felt, because John said, “Carrie, I don’t want you getting mixed up in this investigation. Try to stay calm and leave the sleuthing to my department. We have some good leads to start with, so hopefully we’ll catch whoever killed this guy soon.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of getting involved this close to our wedding,” I said.

  But the wheels were already spinning in my head. John had just told us who the obvious suspects were—Billy Carpenter’s two good friends and his cellmate. I could google them, maybe talk to people who knew them, and help solve this homicide ASAP.

  Chapter Four

  I was glad I was scheduled to work on Sunday, figuring that being around people would help distract me from the previous day’s unsettling experience and stop me from seeing the victim’s face every time I closed my eyes—his dark stubbly beard and the pain etched in his features. Unfortunately, that wasn’t exactly how it played out.

  Somehow word had gotten out that Dylan and I had discovered the body, and everyone I ran into insisted on asking how I felt about finding a body where I was getting married. You’d think people would be more tactful, but human beings are inquisitive by nature and can’t help asking questions.

  Still, that didn’t mean I had to answer them. I hurried off to check on the few ongoing programs, then took refuge in my office, determined not to step outside until two o’clock, when I was obliged to introduce a wonderful musical group scheduled to sing a medley of show tunes in our new stadium-seated auditorium.

  I’d no sooner turned on my computer than Evelyn appeared, wearing a shirtwaist dress—white with a pattern of small sprigs of flowers—and black patent leather heels. The epitome of spring.

  “So,” she said when she’d perched on the corner of Trish’s desk, “tell me everything you found out about the dead man.”

  “Not you too,” I grumbled.

  Evelyn frowned as she walked toward me, remembering just in time not to get too close.

  “Carrie, dear, I only want to help you solve this murder so you can go ahead with your wedding. Isn’t that what you want?”

  “It is. Sorry to be grumpy, but of all the places for a body to turn up, this couldn’t be worse.”

  “I agree,” Evelyn said. “So let’s work on this together.”

  I nodded. “His name is Billy Carpenter. His aunt and uncle sold the house to Victor. Did you know him?”

  Evelyn crossed her legs and thought. “Billy used to come into the library and take out books about electrical inventions. That stopped when he was about fifteen. His parents had just divorced, and his father left town. Billy started to hang out with the problem kids in high school. In fact, he left school before graduating.”

  “Was he close to his aunt and uncle?” I asked.

  “He lived with them off and on because his mother had custody of him and his sister, but she couldn’t control Billy.”

  “A few days after he was released from prison, he went to dig up the money from the robbery,” I told her. “John said he probably had two partners, but from the looks of things, Billy never split the money with them.”

  “So we can assume that one or both of his partners followed him, saw him digging up the money, and killed him for it,” Evelyn said.

  I nodded. “Or his prison cellmate did it. John said word from the prison is that he and Billy were pretty close.”

  “Thick as thieves,” Evelyn said.

  I rolled my eyes.

  “Sorry. I couldn’t resist. The next step is to figure out who Billy’s partners were.”

  “John said he had two close friends: Luke Rizzo and Tino Valdez. They used to get into trouble together, so there’s a good chance they were both in on the robbery five years ago.”

  “Of course—those were their names!” Evelyn said. “And now I remember the robbery. Luke had moved to Hartford to live with his father. He got a part-time job working for a store owner on the same block as the bank that was robbed. How coincidental is that? Of course the police questioned him, but Luke never admitted to being in on the heist. Billy was caught on camera, and he was arrested later that day. He never named his partners.”

  “I’m going to google the robbery and Billy’s trial to see what else I can learn.”

  “Good idea. I’ll stop by later to hear about your results,” Evelyn said, and disappeared.

  There were several articles about the robbery and trial in the Hartford and Clover Ridge local papers, but they revealed little more than what Evelyn had just told me. Dylan called me to see how I was feeling. He told me he’d spoken to Victor, who was mainly upset on our behalf.

  “Oh, he’s so sweet,” I said. Then my desk phone rang. “I have to go.”

  “See you at home.”

  “Carrie, dear, how are you?” asked my great-aunt Harriet when I answered the other line.

  “I’m okay. I suppose you heard that Dylan and I discovered a body on Victor Zalinka’s lawn.”

  “We did. Your uncle and I didn’t want to bother you yesterday, but perhaps you and Dylan would like to come to dinner tonight. It won’t be anything fancy.”

  “I’d love that,” I said. “Let me check with Dylan.”

  “It’s okay with Dylan. I just spoke to him. He said it was up to you.”

  “Oh.”

  “Shall we say six o’clock?”

  “Perfect.”

  I disconnected, thinking about how close Dylan had grown to my relatives. Of course he’d known Harriet and Bosco when they owned the Singleton Farm, and he often spent time there, even when my older brother Jordan and I weren’t visiting. Dylan had also formed a close bond with my father. Jim now worked in Atlanta with Mac, Dylan’s partner in the investigative agency, putting everything he’d learned during his life of crime to good use, catching bad guys.

  Feeling calmer than I had hours earlier, I walked over to the library’s coffee shop and bought a cheese and tomato sandwich and a cup of coffee, which I brought back to my office. I found Smoky Joe waiting to be let in for a quick meal and a pit stop.

  I looked in on the one o’clock movie in the old meeting room downstairs, then returned to my office. Since I had almost an hour with nothing pressing that required my attention, I decided to polish the article about Verity Babcock.

  I turned on my computer and read what I’d written. Except for a few minor edits, I thought the article read well. But something was missing. Where was the anger? The outrage that an innocent woman had been put to death because of the hysteria and ill will that had blazed through her community? I remembered Julia saying that Verity and the other victims had never been exonerated. How awful that after all these years the state had never rectified this wrong. I had to include this in my article.

  I bit my lower lip as I began another paragraph, berating our town officials for failing to declare Verity and the others who had been hanged as witches innocent of all charges. I ended by stating their pardon was long overdue.

  Pleased with my handiwork, I smiled as I emailed the article to Chuck Ryland at the Gazette and sent a copy to Sally.

  * * *

  Dylan and I set out for my aunt and uncle’s at a quarter to six. Dylan had retrieved a bottle of Uncle Bosco’s favorite wine from his seemingly endless supply that he stored in the manor house. I brought over a batch of low-calorie brownies I had in the freezer. They weren’t as rich as my double-chocolate brownies, but Uncle Bosco declared them an okay substitute. I was proud of him for sticking to his diet, for the most part, since his heart attack eight months earlier and for continuing to exercise three times a week with a personal trainer.

  My great-aunt and -uncle lived in a centuries-old home across the Green from the library. They’d moved there about ten years ago, after selling the Singleton Farm to Dylan’s parents. Now Dylan’s parents, whom I’d never met, were both deceased, and the farm, which the Averys had sold at a profit, was a successful B&B.